Seeking Truths
by omens
Summary: Some things are better left in secret.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer**: No, sadly not mine.

…………………

Prologue

…………………

My Dad always told me that if you're really lucky, you get constants in life. Be it people, places, or things, they give you a sense of continuity and stability. I'm really lucky because I, Lane Andrews, have three.

The first is my Dad of course. He's been my the center of my world my whole life, and I love it. I admit freely-I'm a Daddy's girl and I absolutely adore it. I worship my Dad, he's my hero. And I get to see him all the time because he works from home. You know the magazine _Riff_? My Dad's the creator and Editor-In-Chief. Yep, that's right. Jamie Andrews, music mogul is my father. How lucky am I?

The second one would have to be without a doubt my best friend Lucas. He's lived next door to me my whole life. Our family's occupy the two top floor penthouses of the Winchester Building in New York and we pretty much see each other about twenty hours a day. Lucas is an artist, and a great one at that. He's the youngest artist to have a painting on display in the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I've never wanted or felt the need for a sibling, because I've got him and he's the best brother I could ever ask for.

The third is music. My Dad controls a rock empire, of course it's a part of my life. I love it like most people love food or air. I've been writing songs since before I could form coherent sentences. On my seventh birthday my Dad gave me a guitar and lessons-I haven't looked back since. My dream is to be a song writer, but he doesn't approve. He says the music industry destroys people, young girls in particular. When I point out that he's in the music industry he tells me his distance is the only thing that's kept him sane. At those times, he gets this look in his eyes and I get the feeling there's something he's not telling me. I know he wasn't a musician-he can't sing to save his life and he doesn't play an instrument. That's why he has _Riff_ and why he manages artists. He loves music, but can't really contribute creatively.

When I tell people about my constants, or my Dad, the first thing they always ask is "What about your Mom?" I just say I don't really want to talk about it. And they drop it of course, no one wants to risk upsetting the poor little girl with no mother. But that's not the reason I don't say anything.

It's because I don't remember her.

It used to bother me that I never thought about my Mom. My Dad has made my life so wonderful, I never really believed there was anything she could have done to make it better. I don't want siblings. I've got Lucas and I have my Dad all to myself. I'm not that girly, so she wouldn't have been able to teach me to cook or anything like that. I just never felt I needed one.

Oh sure, I've wondered. She was my mother after all. But not enough to ask questions. I did once and my Dad almost started to cry. That was the moment I understood why there are no pictures of her, no mention of her name, why we pretend she doesn't exist. It hurts my Dad too much to talk about her.

That's another constant in my life, the one I don't talk about. My Mom. The woman gave me life and I don't even know her name. My Dad just says 'your mother' on the rare occasion he talks about her. There are no pictures. I saw one once, but it was more of my Dad than her.

Whenever my grandparents come to visit they always bring pictures of my Dad. He's always worn glasses. I've only seen two where he wasn't. One was his high school graduation picture. The other is one of him and my Mom. They're the only pictures of my Dad I've ever seen at that age. From sixteen to twenty there's almost nothing. Just those two.

Lucas and I found it in a drawer when we were nine. My Dad is leaning on a wall by an ocean or lake somewhere, his arm propped on it but facing toward the camera. Only, he's not looking at it. He gazing up at a girl sitting on the wall. I can't see he face because she's looking back at him and her face is hidden behind her dark red hair. I know it's her because he looks totally and completely in love. He caught us and confirmed it, she's my mother.

That's the only time I've ever seen her.

I know it should bother me that I don't think about her, don't miss her. I know other people who have lost their moms and they say they miss them like crazy. Maybe I don't because I can't remember her. Or because my Dad has always given me whatever I needed, he bought me my first bra after all, that I don't.

Lucas, being the artist and so in touch with his emotions, holds firm to the belief that my lack of attention to my Mom has to do with the fact that I don't know anything about her. I've never seen a picture of her, I don't know her name, I wouldn't know her if she were alive and I walked past her on the street. Thus she's not 'real' to me. If I did, then she would be relevant and I'd miss her.

And I don't want to. My life is great. Thinking about her would just complicate things. It's better to pretend she never existed at all.


	2. Life As I Know It

Chapter 1: Life As I Know It

…………………

"You know, a wise man once said too much study wearies the body." Lucas said as he plopped down beside me on the rooftop lounge of our school, Winchester Prep. It's the only co-ed school in the exclusive world of Upper East Side private schools and has a very small student body, mainly populate by students whose parents are liberal and want their kids to go to an 'ordinary school'. Yeah, like ordinary schools cost eight grand a year in tuition.

"We can't cut class." I told him. It's scary how well I know him at times.

"Ah, Lane…" he wrapped his arms around me and propped his head on my shoulder.

"No. We have a test next class. We have to go to biology." I protested and pushed him away.

"We're both pulling A's. What's the harm in a break, it's last period on a Friday. Who's gonna miss us?"

"What did Sonny get in?" I ask. Sonny is the aging hippie who runs the only decent music store in town, Son's, on Bleecker Street. He's the only person Lucas listens to when it comes to music. He won't even listen to my Dad, and _Rolling Stone_ declared him the premier expert of his generation.

"First edition of _Born to Run_ on vinyl. He's only holding it for me until two, then he's gonna put it out."

"Don't you remember what happened the last time we got busted for skipping class?" I asked him.

"Volunteer work in the park's not that bad."

"Squirrels Lucas. Lots of squirrels." I reminded him.

He shuddered slightly. "We won't get caught I promise. If we do, I'll do your hours and mine. Please?" he clasped his hands together in front of my face and dropped to his knees on the ground in front of my table.

"Fine, but if we get caught I am so hitting you."

…………………

"Sonny, my man, how's it hanging?" Lucas yelled as we the bell jingled over our heads.

A few patrons looked up at us, probably wondering why we were wearing uniforms and not in school, but said nothing. Like this crowd never skipped class.

"Lucas." I hissed. He thinks he's cool, but he's seriously gonna get smacked one day for talking like that.

He shrugged at me in a 'what?' move and turned back to the owner. "Still got it?"

"Yep." Sonny reached under the counter and extracted a large wrapped package. They began to talk in earnest about it, and I began riffling through the new arrivals. When I noticed some creepy guy with a 'Fight the System' tattoo on his shaved head staring at me, I put the earphones of my I-pod in and turned it on.

"_I drift away to a place_

_Another kind of life,_

_Take away the pain_

_I create my paradise"_

Okay, not mine. I pulled it out and hit off. There was something odd going on, I'd never heard this song. I turned the I-pod over and knew the problem. It was my Dad's. Ours are identical, but he has a '**Death to Boy Bands**' sticker on the back. I must have picked it up by mistake. Curious, I put the earphones back in and began to listen. My Dad has great taste. If he's playing this chick, there's gotta be a reason.

"_Oh_

_He's under my skin_

_Just give me something to get rid of him_

_I got a reason now to bury this alive_

_Another little white lie"_

"Hey, Sonny." I called and headed over, breaking the conversation between him and Lucas up.

"Lane, we were just debating the commercialism of…"

I held up my hand to silence him. "Listen, I took my Dad's I-pod by mistake. Could you tell me if you've ever heard this song? It's incredible."

Sonny placed an earphone in his ear and I hit play. After a few seconds he looked up at me curiously. "You don't know it?"

I shook my head. "Kinda why I asked you."

"Her name was Jude Harrison. She won Instant Star up in Canada about twenty-five years ago. Had a real chance to be great."

"What happened to her?" Lucas asked.

Sonny looked between the two of us like we were crazy but pressed on. "She died." He said simply.

I looked down at the device in my hand. Age old tale of rock. Mega talent, quick fade out.

"You know, I think my parents have some of her CD's." Lucas piped up.

I was busy scanning through the menu. My Dad had at least twenty of her songs stored. He must have really liked her music. But I didn't recognize any of the titles. If he was so crazy about her, why didn't he play her in the house the way he did Dylan and Greenday?

"Lane honey," Sonny interrupted my thoughts, "don't you know…"

He never got to finish his question because my cell phone went off. I looked at the name display-my Dad. He never calls before three.

Unless…

"We are so busted."

"Later man." Lucas said and we trudged off to get our sentencing.

…………………

"It was all I could do to keep you from getting suspended."

"I said I was sorry."

"Sorry?" My Dad said. "You missed your third class this week to go to that record store and you're sorry?"

"For the record, Monday we went for pancakes. And that was only gym."

He sighed. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Buy me a pony?" I suggested.

"Lane…" he warned. I promptly shut up. If it weren't so hard to make my Dad angry I would have gone on. But the fact that I was actually being yelled at showed me how upset he really was. "At least I know the Marshall's will keep a good eye on you this weekend."

Huh?

"Dad, the Marshall's are going out of town this weekend. Lucas is staying with us, remember?"

"No. I'm going to Halifax this weekend. You're staying with them." He said.

I got out my phone and called Lucas. "He said they're about to leave and he's heading over."

"This is not good." He said and began pacing. Without warning, he turned and headed out the door. I hate when he does that.

Lucas walked through a few seconds later. "Your dad looks like he's about to loose it."

"Schedule conflicts. What are you gonna do?"

"Change of plans." My Dad announced a few moments later. "I'm gonna drop you guys off with Sally as soon as you get your stuff together."

"Sally? Your secretary?" She's nice, but she's sixty and lives with nine cats in a studio apartment above a dry cleaner.

"Yes. Get a move on."

"Why can't we go with you?" I swear I amaze myself sometimes at my brilliance.

My Dad's face darkened. "Lane, we've been through this. Music festivals are not something I want you going to. Especially in Halifax."

"But Dad, I'm fifteen. We have a four day weekend from school. And Lucas we'll be there. I'll be fine."

I pouted my lip at him and I could almost see him cave. "Fine. I'll go order the tickets. But I'll only do this on one condition-you two stay by my side the entire time. Understood?"

"Absolutely." I threw my arms around his neck and dashed off to pack. After all this time, I was finally going to see what my father's world was really like. I couldn't wait.

…………………

**_A/N: In the next chapter Jamie runs into an old friend-sort of. Who is it? And why is he trying to keep Lane away out of Halifax?_**


	3. RunIn

Run In

…………………

"…and remember, don't talk to anyone you don't know." my Dad said for the third time in a ten minutes span.

"Dad, we don't know anybody here."

"Then just stay here and be careful." he said. He put a hand on one of Lucas and my shoulders, directing us down onto a small couch in the corner. Unbelievable. I finally get to come to one of these things, and I have to sit in the corner and not talk to anyone.

Like that's gonna last long. I am sitting in John Mayer's dressing room, not ten feet away, while my Dad interviews him and he expects me to just sit here? The guy is one of my favorites.

We've been in Halifax for exactly two and a half hours and so far my Dad hasn't let us out of his sights. You'd think if I could survive Manhattan for fifteen years I can make it in a place like this. It's not exactly a metropolis, even though it's becoming quite the haven for indie music in Canada. This festival has been going on for the last ten years and this year has the best line up you can get, meaning no bubblegum pop one-hit-wonders. I overheard my Dad telling someone it's the latter day Woodstock.

I start to get up to find a way to talk to John Mayer when Lucas grabs my hand. "What are you doing?" I hiss.

"Lane, you heard your Dad. I don't think he was kidding."

"Lucas that's **John Mayer** over there. I have to talk to him. And I know you want to, don't deny it." I challenge him.

"I really can't talk you out of this, can I?" he asks.

I shake my head. So he gets up and we walk over to where they're talking.

"Dad." I say, plastering a sweet, apologetic expression on my face. He stops mid sentence and turns to me. "We're gonna go find a soda machine, okay?"

He gives me the look that tells me he's uber ticked at me, but just smiles. "Alright, but come straight back."

Just then John Mayer himself reaches into a nearby cooler and pulls out two Pepsis. I'm never throwing this can away. He introduces himself and we join in the conversation. I think I may have died and gone to heaven. Later on as we watch him perform, my Dad puts him arm around my shoulder, signaling he's not mad. Is he the greatest or what?

Twelve hours later it's just getting better. I think I've met everyone I've loved to listen to, the ones that are still alive anyway, and Lucas has this perma grin he's trying to hide so as to look cool and aloof.

It's so not working.

"How cool is this?" I whisper to him as Ravage is playing a blistering set. Being that they're Lucas's favorite band he doesn't respond, only grunts.

"Lucas!"

"Sorry. Lane," he gestures to the band, "Ravage. Can't this wait? I hear daily how amazing your father is, just let me bask in the brilliance."

"Fine." I leave him at the stage and wander away to see what else is going on. My Dad has relaxed a bit, enough not to send me to military school if he sees I'm not with Lucas. I may not get to go to one of these again anytime soon and I want to see all I can.

I spy my Dad talking to some guy in a blue leather jacket. The press pass hanging from his lapel says _Rolling Stone_. Should I? Why not.

"…it's uncanny." I hear the guy say when I get behind the post they're standing near.

"Yeah, it is. She looks more like her everyday." My Dad's reply sounds sad. I wonder who he's talking about.

"Can she sing like her mother?"

"She's pretty good. But Jude…she had the greatest natural talent I've ever seen. I've yet to see someone who can even come close. Of course I'm a little biased. "

"No I agree. Jude had an amazing gift." the guy says.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Lucas waving to me. Reluctantly, I head over. That conversation was getting pretty interesting.

So I was right about my father loving that girl's music. And more than that-he knew her. No wonder he liked her so much. And it seems like she has a daughter who wants to sing too. I'd love to meet her. Hearing about this Jude girl makes me want to learn more about her.

"What?" I ask him when I get back where he's standing.

"Who is that guy? I know I've seen him before." He points, not so discreetly at a man standing on the other side of the stage talking to Johnny Lang. Another guy whose even cooler than his music.

"I don't know. But he does look really familiar." I study the guy, trying to place him. A few years older than my Dad. Dark hair, intense eyes. Expensive clothes. Plus he has the vestiges of good looks that suggests he was something of a hottie once upon a time. Also the way people are staling glances at him shows he's obviously famous-or was at one point. And he clearly fits right in at things like this.

"Excuse me." I say to a guy passing by us with a stack of flyers. If he works here, he's bound to know who this dude is. "Do you know who that is?"

He glances over at the guy and then back at us with an expression like we're morons. "That's Tom Quincy." he says as if it should be perfectly obvious and heads off to wherever he was going in the first place.

"Tom Quincy? As in Tommy Q? The producer?" Lucas looks back over at him. "I thought he'd be taller."

"Yeah, but he certainly looks like he belongs in a boy band."

It's hard to believe that this is the guy who pretty much rules all of Canadian music. He just doesn't seem…hard enough. Darius Mills, now there was a guy who could rule the industry.

"Hey guys, you ready to call it a night?" My Dad comes up behind us and we both jump.

"Dad, you scared us to death." He gives me that look, the 'yeah right' one and began to lead us through the crowd to the exit.

"You guys have fun?" he looks over his shoulder at us and nearly collides with someone else going for the door.

"Sorry man, my fault." The other guys says and I can see now it's Tom Quincy. My Dad's face completely drains of all it's color and then flushes an angry red unlike anything I've ever seen. Tom's expression is a little more calm. He doesn't exactly look happy to see my dad, but he hides it better.

"Jamie. It's been a long time."

I watch the muscles in his jaw tense and he grit's the next words out between clenched teeth. "Not long enough."

An angry looks comes over Tom's features and he juts his head backwards. I follow the movement and see a boy a few years younger than me and obviously his son standing behind him. Seems he didn't want him to hear that.

Then his eyes fall on me and the weirdest look enters his eyes. Like he recognizes me. But he couldn't. I've never met this guy before.

"Is that…" Tom starts but my Dad moves in front of me and cut him off with a very harsh "Don't." He grabs my wrist and Lucas's and yanks us out the door.

"Dad? What was that?" I have never seen my Dad so livid before. It's kinda scary.

"That was something you need to forget ever happened." is his reply. And try as I might I can't get him to say anymore.

The next day we were back in New York, two days early. Guess it'll be awhile before we go back to Canada.

…………………

_**A/N: Short, but I'm kinda pressed for time. The next one will be longer. And just for the record, I made up the band Ravage. If there really is a band call that, I didn't know. And I chose John Mayer for the beginning because I love his music and can see him being around for a long time.**_


	4. Shatter

…………………

Shatter

…………………

"So, any news on the 'Canada Incident'?" Lucas asked, adding finger quotes to the term he'd assigned to our disastrous trip.

I take a handful of popcorn and hand the bowl down to where he's sprawled on the living room floor. I'm sitting sideways in the chair above him, my legs hanging over the side. Ever since we got back I've had been ordered not to leave the apartment except for school. He takes the bowl and sits it down beside him. He reaches the remote to the stereo up to me and I change the CD from Billy Holiday to Blondie.

"No. I've hardly seen him since we got back. It's almost like he's avoiding me."

"I've never seen my dad that angry." I add after a brief pause.

"What about when we painted over his cover of _Abbey Road_?" Lucas asks, raising his head slightly to look at me.

"That was different. He yelled a lot that time. This was…scarier. I swear I thought he was gonna hit him."

"Here all this time I thought your dad was a pacifist." he mumbles around a mouth full of popcorn.

"There's bad blood there. I can feel it."

Lucas raises himself up fully, his dark hair flopping into his eyes. "'Not long enough'? Come on Lane, that is way more than bad blood. That's serious badness."

The doorbell chimes before I can respond, and I get up to answer it. Out of the corner of my eye I see Lucas grab the remote off the chair and hit pause so he can listen.

I open the door to see a boy about twelve standing there, a backpack slung over his shoulder. He looks familiar, but I can't place him. Maybe he lives in the building. How else would he get in? We've got TIGHT security.

"Can I help you?"

"Does uh, Jamie Andrews live here?" he stammers.

He must be a fan. Looks like I'm gonna have to have another little chat with the doorman.

"Yes, he does. But he's not here right now. You can leave your name and address with me and I'll make sure he sends you an autograph or whatever." I grab a pen and a notepad from the hall table and hand it to him.

"That's not why I'm here." he says quickly.

"You're not a fan?"

"No. I mean yes. I am a fan," he says, "but that's not why I'm here."

Now I'm getting a bit miffed. This kid is seriously cutting into my lazy time with Lucas. "Then why are you here?"

"I'd rather tell him."

"I already told you he's not here."

"Can I wait?" he asks. He looks up at me with big blue eyes full of hope and something like sadness. I can't say no.

"Fine." I agree and hold the door open. "But don't steal, or break, anything."

He nods and follows me into the living room. Lucas stands and eyes him suspiciously before giving me The Look. "Lane, can I talk to you for a second?"

We go into the kitchen and he whispers urgently "What are you doing? Number one rule: you never let your dad's fans in. Even I know that. Remember the woman who tried to smuggle out the garbage?"

"Lucas, he's a kid. And there's something about him. He says he needs to talk to my dad. I can just tell it's important."

"You can tell?" he says in disbelief. "How?"

"There's something in his eyes. Besides, he looks really familiar."

"You know, one of these days your lifeless body will be found because of this nice streak of yours. What kind of New Yorker are you? Where's the cynicism?"

"You have enough for the both of us." I pat his cheek and walked back to the living room. Can't leave the kid alone for too long.

He's gazing in awe at my dad's music collection. It is pretty impressive. The entire living room is floor to ceiling shelves and cabinets stocked with records, CD's, and DVD's, broken only by the massive stereo system in the center. The television is in the den with all the film DVD's. These are all concerts and videos.

"This is incredible." he whispers.

"Yeah, it is." I say, crossing my arms over my chest.

The boy starts and looks over at us, hitching his backpack higher on his shoulder. He looks so scared. I feel myself soften against my will.

"What's your name?"

"Miles."

We all sit down, him in my vacated chair and Lucas and I on the couch opposite it. "You want something to drink? Eat?" I ask. He shakes his and keeps looking around.

"So, Miles," Lucas says after several painfully silent moments, "how old are you?"

"Twelve." he answers shortly.

"Twelve? Do your parents have any idea where you are?" I ask.

"No. My Dad was at work when I left. But he'll figure it out. I used his credit card to buy my ticket." he confessed.

"Ticket?" Lucas sounded majorly confused.

"I live in Toronto."

"You flew all the way here to meet my dad without telling your parents? Why?"

He looks oddly upset. "You don't remember me?"

I look at Lucas to see if he knows what Miles is talking about, but he just shrugs. "Should I?"

"I saw you at the festival in Halifax." he explains.

Now I know why he looks so familiar.

"You're Tom Quincy's son. I saw you with him when we were leaving."

"What are you doing here?" Lucas blurts out. I smack him on the arm, but he ignores me. "I didn't exactly get the vibe that your father was a big fan of Mr. Andrews's."

"That's what I have to talk to him about." Miles says.

"I've already tried. He won't talk about it." I tell him.

He kind of deflates just then but the sound of the door opening makes him sit up straight in his seat.

"Lane, honey, you home?" his voice calls out.

"In here Dad." I yell back.

He walks I with a pizza and what looks like garlic bread. "Hi sweetie. Hey Lucas, you staying for dinner?"

"Like I would ever say no." Lucas says.

My dad's eyes fall on Miles finally and he blinks in surprise. "Hello. And you are?"

"Miles." He jumps up out of his chair and goes to shake my dad's hand.

"Miles Quincy." I say. Instantly my dad's face drains of all it's color. He sets the food on the coffee table and looks slowly back at Miles. "Son, I think you should call your Dad and let him know where you are so he can come get you."

"I need to talk to you." Miles says quickly. He reaches around and pulls a piece of paper out his backpack and hands it to my Dad. His face drains of all color and he stares at Miles as though he's seen a ghost.

"I found that in my Dad's office." Miles says quietly. "I couldn't ask him about it. I knew he'd just say to drop it like he always does wit things he doesn't want to talk about."

The doorbell rings again and Lucas puts a hand on my arm and whispers that he'll get it. I look over my Dad's shoulder to see what he's holding.

I don't believe it. It must be a fake Or a really bad dream. I've even been known to hallucinate after too much sugar. That can't be legit.

My dad is holding an adoption certificate. Miles's name is listed as the child in question and under father it says Jamie Andrews. This is SO not happening.

"Um, Mr. Andrews?" Lucas says from the doorway. We all turn to see Tom Quincy there.

"Jamie, man, I'm sorry about this. If I'd known he was planning this…"

"So it's true?" Miles asks. "Are you my father?"

"No." my dad says softly. He hands the paper back to Miles.

"But it says right here…" he holds his hands up to silence him. "It says that because I was married to your mother when you were born. But Tommy's your father."

"What!"

Everybody looks at me. Guess they forgot Lucas and I were here.

"Lane…" my dad starts toward me. I step back and he stops. "How could you not tell me you were married again? Was I too young to remember? What about Mom?"

"I'll tell you everything when you're older."

"That is such a cop out!" I yell.

Tommy chuckles. "Just like Jude." he mumbles.

My dad whirls on him. "Don't you dare."

Tommy's face hardens, but he goes on, "You have no right to stand here in my house and talk about Jude in front of Lane. Not after what you did."

"I don't get it." Miles says. He looks over at his father. "How is she," he points at me, "like Mom?"

Jude? As in Jude Harrison? She's Miles's mother? Now I'm even more confused. What does any of this have to do with me?

Tommy comes over and lays his hands on his son's shoulders. "Because she's her mother, too."

I feel like I can't breath. Like the whole world is closing in around me and nothing is making sense. My dad looks over at me and starts toward me again. Once more I step away. But this time I run out of the apartment. I vaguely notice Lucas following me and I think I hear my dad yelling at me . But I don't stop. I can't. It's not true.

It can't be.


	5. Truth Comes Out

_**A/N: This one's very wordy. Don't say you weren't warned.**_

…………………

Truth Comes Out

…………………

"I thought I'd find you here."

"Go away Lucas." I say, not even bothering to turn around. I should have known he'd find me. Lucas and I have been coming up here since we were little.

Here is this old, small castle type playhouse in Central Park that most kids love, but their parents won't let them go into. Ours never minded, so it's been kind of our spot since we were seven.

"You honestly think I'd leave you alone at a time like this?" he asks, sitting beside me, his long legs now a full half foot longer than mine. I remember when they were the same length.

I snort. There's really no other word for the sound. "Like what?" I ask. "A time when I finally find out my mother's name? Or when I find out she had an affair that resulted in another kid? Or when said kid shows up thinking my dad's his father? Or when I find out that Tom Quincy destroyed my parent's marriage?"

Lucas doesn't answer. Instead, he wraps an arm around my shoulder and pulls me against him, my head tucking under his chin naturally.

"No wonder my dad hates boy bands." I mutter.

"You okay?" he asks.

"No. I don't know if I'll ever be okay again." I confess. Lucas is the only person in the world I could tell something like that to and know that they'll understand without reading too much into it.

"You're probably not the only one who feels that way."

I take a deep breath. "My dad brought that whole little scene on himself."

"Not him. I'm talking about Miles."

I sit up and pull away from him. I don't want to hear this right now.

"Like it or not Lane, that kid is your brother."

"Half brother." I correct.

"Blood is blood. He's still your family." Lucas tells me. Artists.

I look at him finally. He has that determined glint in his eye, like when he's made up his mind to use his mother's jewelry in his work and won't hear about how grounded he's going to get.

"Lucas," I say slowly, "**you** are my family. That kid…he's just a relative."

"How can you say that?"

"Because I've lived the past fifteen years without any siblings and it's worked pretty well for me. Besides," I smile softly at him, "I've got you, and you're the best brother anyone could ever ask for."

He returns my smile with a deep sigh. Once more, he wraps an arm around me and I settle against him.

"Are you going to make me like him?"

"I've learned from experience that no one can make you do anything you don't want to, but I think you will regret not at least trying to get to know him." Lucas says after a few moments, beginning to play with the ends of my hair.

I stand and hold my hand down to him. "Well, come on. I've gotta get this over with and I'm not doing it alone."

…………………

Three faces shoot up at the sound of the penthouse door opening.

"Lane, where have you been? I almost called the cops." My dad sounds frantic and anxiety is etched all over his face.

Wordlessly, I walk over and sit on the couch next to Miles. He eyes me warily. "I think it's about time you tell us both everything. And I mean everything."

I watch Tom's eyes flit over to Lucas standing in the doorway of the off the foyer. He's about to ask him to leave, I know it.

"Lucas stays." I tell him bluntly. "Or you go."

Tom starts, as if surprised by my frankness. It is my house after all. I watch him eye me, then Lucas, and finally his eyes fall on my dad. Something passes between them wordlessly. Like a recognition almost.

"I guess I'll start at the beginning." Dad said.

"That's usually a good place." I replied sarcastically, and for once he didn't scold me.

"Jude and I were a lot like you and Lucas. We were best friends, grew up next to each other, practically spoke our own language. Only I wanted more than that. I fell in love with her…hell, I don't even know when it happened." he said, a wistful look coming over his face at the memory.

"Then she won Instant Star and everything changed." His gaze locked onto Tom and the air in the room charged dramatically. "We both always wanted music careers. She got hers and I got mine by connection I guess. Only it came with a catch."

"You." I said to Tom. He nodded.

"Jude had the hugest crush on him. Even with other guys, including me, it never entirely went away. That was probably why we were so on again-off again for so long."

"How long?" Miles asked.

"About two years. We could never really seem to make it work, but we couldn't quite give up either."

"And you?" I asked Tom. "How did you feel about her?"

"I fell for Jude hard. But she was underage and I wasn't willing to risk our working relationship. So I tried to keep my distance. At least romantically."

My dad snorted. Guess that's were I get it.

"I did." Tom declared. "But it was hard. That's probably why I put so much into my relationship with Sadie."

"Aunt Sadie? You dated her?" Miles asked his father.

"He married her." Dad clarified.

"You were married to Aunt Sadie? Mom's sister?" Miles exclaimed.

Lucas whistled low in the doorway. Tom frowned at him.

"That's kinda gross." I said.

"I did love her. But when Jude married Jamie, I didn't think I had a choice."

"Yeah, that's a really good excuse." Lucas muttered.

Tom glared at him again. "You sure he's not yours? He's exactly like you were at that age." he said to my dad.

I looked over at Lucas, who shrugged.

"Anyway," my dad said, annoyance creeping into his voice, "during one of our on again phases we ended up t the Grammy's in Las Vegas. Jude won two awards, we gambled a little, drank a lot, and I just asked her."

"You eloped?" I never would have pictured my father being that…wild.

He nodded. "We got a room at Ceaser's for a week. The label and our parents were going crazy looking for us. Eventually, a maid leaked the story to the papers and here came Saint Tommy," he glared at Tom and his face darkened considerably, "to the rescue. Broke our door down and assured Jude that she could get an annulment."

"Man." Lucas muttered. Once more, Tom looked ready to throttle him. But he merely took over telling the story. "Jude told me she didn't want an annulment. I tried to reason with her, tell her what it would do to her career. But she didn't care. She wanted to stay married even though she was only eighteen and had a whole semester of high school to go."

"Dad." I exclaimed, shocked at what I was hearing.

"I loved her." he said simply. "More than I thought it was possible to love anyone. Until you."

"Jude found out she was pregnant the day of her graduation." Tom cut in. "Darius went berserk, tried to get out of the contract with her…and I proposed to Sadie. Before you," he looked at me, "I still thought I had a chance."

"Sorry I ruined your plans." I deadpanned. Lucas snickered.

"Jamie started managing artist full time. He went on the road with Jude and began the early copies of _Riff_ on the tour bus. By the time you were born, the magazine was a smash and Jude was nominated for more awards than you can imagine. Her career exploded, I think it was that video."

"What video?" Miles asked in a voice that made it obvious he'd seen them all.

"The one with him in it. The label didn't know what to do for the song, so Sadie stayed up all night and made it out of home movies and stuff she'd shot herself. And then she won a billion awards. It was her big break."

"That was around the time you two split." Dad said.

Tom nodded. "I realized it wasn't working and she moved in with that friend of hers. She filed for divorce two months later."

I felt someone's gaze on me. I turned. It was my dad's. "When Jude found out she was pregnant." His eyes flitted over to Miles.

He returned his gaze to me. "You were six months old, and one night Jude and I had this huge blow up. Over everything, even things we'd fought over in elementary school. I accused her of not really loving me and she left. I didn't hear from her for three weeks. She came home, crying, and begged me to forgive her. I did of course. I was never able to tell her no."

"She had been staying with me. She finally admitted what had gone down with Jamie, we got really drunk, and it happened. The next day she went home and told me never to speak to her again." Tom added.

"Then," my dad said, "she told me what had happened between them. And that she was pregnant. I could have killed Tommy. But she said she wanted us to raise the baby together, Tommy never had to know."

Miles looked at his dad like he was a stranger.

"But I couldn't. I couldn't imagine ever being able to get over the pain of what she'd done. So I took you and came to New York." My dad got up and walked over to sit on the coffee table in front of me, taking my hand.

"I knew it was over, but I couldn't let you go. I was terrified that Tommy would somehow find a way to take you away from me and I didn't want him raising my daughter."

"Why would he want me?"

"Because I wanted Jude." Tom said. "I found out from her friend Kat what was going on and I asked her to marry me. I promised we'd get you and the four of us would be a family." He took a deep breath, looking down at his clenched hands. "But she only wanted Jamie. And he refused to speak to her. That's when she lost it."

"What do you mean?" Miles asked softly.

"Complete nervous and mental breakdown. Involuntarily committed during the last six months of her pregnancy. You were born in Pinecrest Sanitarium in Nova Scotia." Tom said. "I called Jamie as soon as Mrs. Harrison called to tell me that Jude was in labor."

"I got there within an hour. They had already done a c-section, and Jude was asking for me." He blinked rapidly, as if struggling not to cry. "She was lucid finally. Told me she loved me, that she was sorry, and asked me to forgive her. I think he knew she wasn't going to make it, so she asked me to raise Miles."

"She did?" he asked.

My dad nodded. "She named you. After Miles Davis. She loved his music. Already had the birth certificate filed. That's why Tommy had to legally adopt you."

"Why didn't you raise him?" I asked.

"Because as much as I loved Jude, I just couldn't do it. He was her son, and I would have loved him, but he belonged with his father. Just like you did."

"She died two hours later. She was holding you when it happened." Dad told Miles. "She loved you very much."

"So where does that leave us?" I demanded.

"I have no idea." he said simply.


End file.
